The summertime in the cul de Sac was the time of year we all looked forward to three months of no school, days spent running the sidewalks and riding bikes, and the familiar sound of the ice cream truck a couple times a day. We were all just middle class kids, and those without older siblings were under no orders to stay with the group if they went out. We lived in those halcyon days when you didn't come in until
the street lights came on. Mom was only worried when something came out of the newspapers about stranger danger or an abduction. The street I lived on had about twelve families and all of them have kids. Me and Mikey Castro were best buds, we had been since first grade. There were usually enough kids out on the road riding bikes or shooting hoops to get a game of stickball
or soccer going if we wanted. Sometimes, if their parents were cool with it, we'd play touch football in someone's yard or my radio flyer wagon out of the garage, and we'd loaded up with plastic guns and play war. Most of the kids came in pairs to play the game of the day, pairs of triplets or even quads, but everyone on the block had someone or several someone Solo kids shot out like a sore thumb. We all
usually chummed together. I'll tell you all this so I could tell you that Robbie was odd by the standards of the neighborhood. Robbie didn't have a best friend, and I'm not entirely sure that he had any friends at all. He was a skinny kid, real thin, my mom would have said, with big thick glasses and a mouth made for frowning. He never joined in our games, and we never really offered. We weren't unfriendly kids, far from it.
But Robbie didn't feel right. I know that sounds, but a weird kind of haze seemed to hang over Robbie. It always reminded me of the stink lines around Pigpen and the Peanuts, but this one felt more like VB static. It was a low background sound that hung around him, and if I spent too much time around him, I always felt like I had a headache coming on. He used to draw on the sidewalk with colored chalk. We all joked that his dad must bring back the defective
sticks from the chalk factory. Where he worked, no matter the temperature, no out of the season. Robbie was out there drawing on the sidewalk. It was the summer of ninety two and Mikey had a new super soaker. He wanted to do a water war, so all of us with water guns showed up to play. I had a couple of water pistols from Easter, and Steve Westers had about three of those big super soakers that were popular
the year before. He and his two brothers took him and some of the other kids had a ragged collection of water pistols and water balloons. They were about eleven of us in all. We divided up teams as fairly as we could. The opposing side had more guys, but one of them was Davy Michaels and his club foot. It kind of held him back from running. We were soaking each other in lukewarm water when I heard someone
yell in frustration. He looked up to see Robbie shaking his wet arm, scowling at two of the Western brothers who had soaked him with their guns. What are you doing? You'll erase it. Get away from here. This is my sidewalk. Mom said, so some of us stopped squirting each other, moving closer as he brandished his piece of chalk like a dagger of the Westers brothers. They were backing away too, like whatever he had might be catching, and he bent back down to fix the chalk, drawing, the one that
they had ruined with their water guns. I approached Robbie, meaning to apologize, but he stood up and brandished the chalk in me again. Get away, this is my sidewalk. Go play on your sidewalk, I laughed. Robbie, a sidewalker for everyone. You can't own a sidewalk, can't too, he belt it can't too. My mom says, so this sidewalk in front of our home is mind. I took a step forward, trying to calm and but then I saw what he had been drawing, and recoiled a little. For
a drawing, he was very expressive. I'd later think of cave paintings or early Primitive drawings, but this was far more savage. It was a tall man with long frilled arms, long spindly legs. His chest was equally long, stretching in many colors as it tapered up to a rounded head with a pair of stubby horns on it. His eyes were spirals that swirls, changing colors as well as they swirled into the irises. Even wet, it looked very formidable. What is that, I asked, and Robbie must have heard
something in my voice. He grinned. That's the chalkman. I draw him all the time. He comes to me at night, tells me that if I don't get me, so I draw him everywhere, on the sidewalk, on the car port, even on the back patio. I shook head turning to go, but I heard him say something else, and it made my blood run cold. I put him out here because he says he likes to watch you guys. What I half whispered as I turned back around. What did you say?
I said, he likes to watch you kids while you play. Someday, when none of you are paying attention, he grab one of you and drag you into this little world and gobble you up. That's what he says. Anyway, he shrieked again. When I started sprang the chalk drawing. I couldn't have told you why I did it, but I felt certain that it needed to be done. The thing needed to be gone. Forever, and as it started to fade, I
heard my squirt gun hiss as he went empty. I moved away slowly, Robbie still crying as he yelled at me for ruining it, And when Mikey came over to see what was going on, I found I couldn't look away from the spot where Robbie was fixing that horrid creature. Oh is that a Mike? He asked, Robbie, still shooting me murderous looks. I I tried to find my words for it, but I was unable. I don't know he
said something I didn't like. It made me feel I chewed my lip, trying to find something to describe it, and coming up short. Bad, really bad. The water war was starting to wind down now, most of us on our third or fourth tank, and we were all soaked and shivering. Come on, said Mikey, I just got a new Super Nintendo game. We could dry off and you could borrows on my clothes. I nodded and allowed myself to be pulled away, but it was hard to look away from that hunched figure as he worked over the
chalk drawings of his monster. We spent the afternoon playing a new spaceship game that had been gotten I can't remember the name, and I was shocked to out and see that it was getting dark. The street lights would be coming on now, and my mom would be angry if it got dark and I wasn't home. Mikey asked if I wanted to ask his mother to drive me, but his house was only a few blocks down from my house. If I run, I could make it, I
told him, and I headed off towards my home. The afternoon had gotten away from me, the sun riding low in the night fast approaching and after run if I intended to make it home. But as I ran down the path and towards the sidewalk, I stopped as I saw something I had hoped to avoid stretched across the sidewalk, the multi colored chalk. Very bright was the chalkman. He was even bigger than he had been earlier, his arms seeming to twine around the fence posts, and I hopscotched
over and around him. As I took off for home, I was going to be late if I didn't all but fly down the pavement. It hadn't gone very far, though, when I saw another chalkman, just as large as the last. His mouth was open, revealing teeth as sharp as knives, a mouth that size and have no problem gobbling me up whole. I ran around this one, too, but it wasn't the last. They seemed to be everywhere, and Robbie
had been busy. Indeed, the chalkman was rising and writhing around the concrete, his mouth opened and closed as I ran, those gnashing teeth going up and down. As my fervent strides bore me on, I was filled with the terror of bedroom closets and growlings beneath the bed. These chalk drawings made me feel the way that strangers sometimes did, the way I felt when I listened to a scary story, the way I felt when I was outside at night.
When I tripped. My cry had nothing to do with the way the pavement ate up my hands and knees. I thought I had just caught the edge of the sidewalk in my haste, But as I looked back, I felt my neck hair stand up. A single chalk hand, the purple claw, looking huge and cruel, had risen up to grab my ankle. As I ran. The chalkman was even now rising from the pavement, its gnashing teeth chomping at my ankle. It nearly had me too. I was so surprised to find the chalk arm rising from the concrete.
This was no cartoon this things like this didn't happen in the real world. It dragged me halfway to its gaping mom before I realized I wasn't dreaming. After bashing my head on the sidewalk, I pulled, and I pulled hard, but his hands were strong. He dragged me back, more of me rising as he yanked at me. But it seemed fate had only other ideas. He grabbed not the whole ankle, but my sock, and as his hand slipped on the fabric, I was up and moving. Before I
could latch back around it. I was running. I was dodging around other chalk drawings, and when I saw my house coming into view, I breathed a little easier. That wasn't until I saw the chalkman outside my own gate. He was already rising like a blighted weed from the pavement, and I knew I couldn't get around him. I sidestepped into the neighbor's yard, and that's when I saw it. His hose was coiled around the spickett, and I reached for the nozzle as the shadow of that thing fell
over me. It was rising huge now, coming up and up, and I unwombed the hose, and when the water hit it, chalkman seemed as surprised as I was. It stepped back, some of its color fading, and as I pelted it with water, the chalk began to run into the gutter. He was melting like the wicked witch, and as he fell away to nothing, I turned off the hose and I ran the rest of the way home. I came in panting, and any anger my mom might have had was washed away like the chalkman. I told her, I
felt like someone had been trying to snatch me. She made the usual sounds about people being watchful. She fed me. She told me to get ready for bed, but I knew there wouldn't be any sleep for me tonight. How can I sleep with that the image of that chalk running through my head? For the next several nights, I had bad dreams about the Chalkman. In my dream I didn't get away. In my dreams, the chalkman dragged me across the pavement, and the last thing I saw before I
woke up, was him pulling me into his mouth. After that night, I didn't see any more of the sidewalk drawings. Some people in the neighborhood had complained, and Robbie was only allowed to draw them in front of his own house. His parents got fined, I heard, and his dad grounded him from drawing for a week. I assume he still did, since the chalkman never got him. But the chalkman never
darkened our sidewalks again. I can remember on the days when I found myself close to the madly scribbling boy, the chalkman still seemed to move, but he could have been heat shimmer. Those are but the remembrance of a child. They're so vivid. I often wonder how much his speculation and how much how much truly happened. Hey, did you like that creepy pasta story that you heard today? I bet you did, because you'd stuck around to hear the outro.
So if you want to find more crevy positories like this, check out the links in the description down below lead you over to the Creepypasta collection Volume one and Volume two. Volume one and Volume two also have a bunch of stories from some of the best authors I've worked with in the past fifteen years, which I think is pretty high praising as this is like, what four thousand stories, That's right, four thousand stories. Subscribe you'll see them. But yes, two
books available Amazon linked down below. Check them out. Also, I want to give a huge thank you to everybody on this list of Patreons. Some of these amazing folks are Diana Kraus, Acid System, Blake Rattler, Brandon Mendoza, Redda Crow, How Tuna, Chicago hit Man, Corey knsh Crusader, Jocobo, Dakota Best,
Daniel Pulsen, Don Taking Kaid Enchanted Buns. That's to Bean Haadie's nephew Himbo, Jerry How a Minute, Second Time, Inger, Girt Salstrom, Jay Curts, Jettis, Pat mcmode, Mister Marcus Splitz, Psychomel Plant Pis, Red Shadow Cat, Remember the Sun, Salty Surprise, Samara l in Seclude, Simbas, Bloody, Mojo Sky, Harbert smile Y, The Psychotic Sully Man, Tolly Sue, Team Lao seventy six, The Demented Voice in Your Head, The Jabez Brothers, The
Judger Brus, Tommy Walters, Vice, Roy Scorn William Wellington, your bro Keegan, Zubub and Shadow Gardens. A huge thank you to you guys, everybody who shows up in the description down below, and as always, folks, Sweet dreams,